


a certain kind of vessel

by singmyheart



Series: the evidence of living [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, Light Dom/sub, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singmyheart/pseuds/singmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“no pressure, or anything, you're the light of my life, best of women and all that, but, i mean. if i’m sleeping with john, and i’m sleeping with you, why not consolidate, right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a certain kind of vessel

**Author's Note:**

> jfc i wrestled with this one for a while, i'm posting it mostly so i don't have to look at it anymore.
> 
> title, once again, comes from "the hush of the very good" by todd boss.

alex, eliza knows, is many things: brilliant, clever, unfailingly loyal. he's an absolute whirlwind, prone to self-destruction if left unchecked, always prepared to become a thorn in the side of anyone who disagrees with him. he's also _efficient,_ and completely unable to be anything other than genuine, and it's these last two that eliza is currently appreciating.

“it's just that," he’s saying, seemingly forcing himself to make eye contact even as he's fidgeting nervously with the hem of his t-shirt, “no pressure,  or anything, you're the light of my life, best of women and all that, but, i mean. if i’m sleeping with john, and i’m sleeping with you, why not consolidate, right?”

“consolidate,” she repeats, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of her voice. she doesn't mean to laugh at him, but he just looks so _nervous._ it's sweet, really.

“yeah, i’m -” alex stops, swallows, looks at her helplessly. “does this make any sense to you at all?”

it does; what he's asking for isn't anything outrageous, and it does make sense purely from a logistical standpoint - which is probably what got him thinking about it in the first place, eliza reasons. “just to clarify - you're proposing that john and i top you, together.”

“yeah.” he leaves it at that; doesn't wheedle or explain any further, just waits for her to speak.

“have you talked about this with him?”

“no, i wanted to ask you first.”

“you know,” she says, like she's considering, “i think that can be arranged.” and she does laugh at the look on his face, though it turns into a shriek when he tackles her, presses her back into her bed and kisses her.

 

she's never been quite sure what alex and john are to each other. whatever it is, it predates her; they'd been, at least,  sleeping together before she and alex had met. best friends, yes, and lovers, yes, but not quite boyfriends or partners or any of those other terms. she knows that alex gets something out of sex with john that she doesn't give him; that much is evident in the scratches across his back, the bruises on his hips, that appear from time to time. she does a little research after the first conversation she and alex have about it, comes up with terms like _ethical non-monogamy_ and _polyfidelity_ that don't seem to fit at all with her image of them. eventually, she decides it doesn't matter: everyone's happy. alex loves her, and he loves john, too.

 

 

 

eliza's not nearly as convinced as alex is that they need to _strategize._ “we can just _talk to him_ ,” she protests, laughing, “there's no reason for all this -” but then alex is mouthing at her neck and muttering, “it's more fun this way, fun is the reason,” and she kind of forgets the point she's trying to make.

and so, as per alex’s genius plan, they're lying in his bed, still naked and damp with sweat, when john returns to the room. they don't usually have sex in the dorm for that reason, among others: john’s always around, the walls are thin, and she's heard enough stories about these beds breaking to not want to take the risk. john's distracted as he lets himself in, and then glances up to see the two of them looking at him, pulls his headphones out of his ears. “sorry,” he says, “should i… ?” and he gestures vaguely toward the hallway.

“nah, come in,” alex says, easily. eliza smiles at john, pulls the topsheet up over her chest a little more, extends a hand to offer him the joint she's just rolled (this is not so much part of alex’s plan as it is just good timing).

he takes it with a murmured _thanks,_ digs a lighter out of his pocket. he looks for a moment like he doesn't know where to sit, a problem alex solves decisively by moving his own feet out of the way and tugging at john’s sleeve, indicates he should sit at the end of the bed. he does, takes a long, slow drag and asks around a lungful of smoke, looking from eliza to alex and back, “why are you staring at me?” he exhales in the vague direction of the window, coughs heartily into the crook of his arm.

“cause you're so pretty,” alex tells him cheerfully, accepts the joint when it's passed to him.

eliza senses that this could take a while if she doesn't intervene, so she and alex exchange a look, and she says, “we wanted to ask you something, john.”

“forgive me if i’m way off base here, but. are you about to invite me to -” john gestures between the two of them - “join you?”

“not right this second,” alex explains hastily. “also what the fuck, how did you know.”

“well, you're naked, usually when you're naked you want something. i assume the same goes for you.” this last part is directed at eliza, teasingly.

“he's been calling it _operation: seduce john laurens,_ ” eliza puts in. “i don't really think this requires seduction _or_ a codename given that he's already sleeping with you, but he insisted.”

“he does like codenames,” john allows, deadpan, like alex isn't right there and making an indignant noise. a smile tugs at his mouth, but he's not quite sold, yet.

“ _anyway,_ ” alex interrupts, eager, “the point is, we think this could be fun. absolutely no pressure, but i’ll be so crushed if you say no i won't touch your dick for, like, at least a week. probably.”

“naturally.” john looks to eliza. “you want to?”

she notes with faint amusement that he's not even glanced at her cleavage, clearly visible above the thin sheet. a few responses run through her head, coy, flirtatious, but she settles for the truth. “i do, yeah.”

a smile breaks out across john’s face, slow as molasses. “okay. i’m in, let's do it.”

eliza glances over at alex: he's gone still, the joint between his fingers forgotten, burned out but still smoking faintly. he looks like the cat that got the cream.

john continues, once again like alex isn't in the room: “he wants us to top him, yeah?” eliza sees what he's doing right away - this is going to drive alex crazy. she fights to keep her tone serious around her own smile, relishes the little thrill up her spine at the thought of an _us._

 _“_ that's what he said. so, i don't really know how the two of you usually do things - i don't really hurt him, but it seems like you have that covered, unless i'm mistaken.”

john laughs a little, nods. he's looking at her mouth when he says, “yeah, he's pretty well taken care of on that front. do you wanna - can we make him watch?”

 _oh_. she hadn't considered that, but if he means what she thinks he means - “yes. definitely.” next to her alex makes this tiny sound that might be a whimper. “you have safewords, right?”

“we use the stoplight thing, you know, red, yellow, green. that work for you?”

“that's perfect. my place, this saturday? my sister won't be home, so there's zero chance of you walking in on tom jefferson in the bathroom, or something.”

“good to know.” john grins, looks at alex. “and you, anything to add?”

“oh, you've remembered i’m here,” alex grumbles without any real heat in it. “no, all of that sounds good, except that saturday is _four days away_ and i might _die_.”

“please, try to find the strength to go on,” eliza snorts. alex glances at john and then back to her. slowly, he leans in to kiss her, satisfied that they've reached an agreement. his pulse thrums under her fingertips and he's trying and failing not to smile. it's warm, and familiar, except for the acute awareness that john is _right there,_ watching. she catches alex’s lip in her teeth, gently; might as well give john a bit of a show. he hums against her, presses a quick little kiss to the corner of her mouth before they break apart.

and then he's looking at john, who ducks his head a little, like he's embarrassed. but he's not watching anything he shouldn't, and alex chooses to remind him of this fact by muttering, “come _here,_ ” pulls him forward by the front of his shirt and kisses him, too. john allows him that much, but gets a bit of his own back; all it takes is a hand sunk into alex’s hair and a languid roll of his jaw and alex just _melts,_  lets john kiss him instead of the other way around.

when john looks at eliza he's tentative, still, and she's surprised to find that she doesn't feel the same way, but sure and confident here between the two of them. safe. she's also kind of forgotten she's naked save a bedsheet. and so she leans forward and kisses john, too, with her fingertips on his chest and alex’s hand spread warm across her bare back.

 

 

 

alex does, in fact, survive until saturday. he spends friday night at eliza’s, and they pass most of the evening in contented, companionable silence, half-watching tv or studying with his feet in her lap. alex dozes off there on the couch sometime after midnight, and he looks so peaceful that eliza almost feels bad nudging him awake so they can go to bed, strip and crawl under the sheets and curl up, facing each other like closed parentheses.

 

 

 

by the time john arrives, early in the afternoon, alex is so tense he's practically vibrating. it's a good tense, though, it only means eliza had had to cut him off after his second cup of coffee for fear of him bouncing off the walls. she doesn't blame him; she's nervous, too, that giddy kind of almost-nausea settling in the pit of her stomach.

they're all standing in her bedroom, now; it seems a little silly to pretend john’s here for any other reason than he's here. nobody says anything, and then they all laugh, just a little; that nervous, tension-breaking kind of laughter. eliza tugs alex toward her by his belt loops and kisses him, and it feels like falling headfirst.

john steps up behind him; his hands brush eliza’s when they settle on alex’s hips, rubbing slow circles over his t-shirt. alex’s mouth falls open under hers, just the smallest intake of breath, and john pushes his hair out of the way to drop a line of wet, indulgent kisses up his neck to his ear. eliza lets her hands wander, pushes up under his shirt to skim her nails over his chest, sides, back. she leans into him, slips her tongue into his mouth, and john presses fractionally closer, until alex has nowhere to go, nothing to do but be held up and kissed.

that nervous tension is just starting to leech out of alex’s spine when eliza pulls away from him, only enough to push up on her toes and kiss john over his shoulder. he meets her easily, opens his mouth and slides his tongue against hers like they've been doing this for years.

she remembers john’s question from earlier that week - _can we make him watch? -_ and it's dizzying to realize, all of a sudden, how much she wants exactly that. she pulls gently away from john’s mouth and wills her voice not to shake; she's feeling a little weak in the knees. “alex, get undressed.” it still surprises her, sometimes, that he does: he's so pliant, so willing, so _grateful_ to silence the noise in his head every once in a while.

when he's naked and his clothes are in a heap at his feet, his eyes flick between her and john, expectant. john’s hand on the small of her back tells her _go on,_ he won't interrupt, not now. it's her call. “on your knees,” she says softly, and alex goes, kneeling on the floor at the foot of her bed. she's looking at him but talking to john when she asks, “you wanna give him something to watch?” alex’s eyes snap back up from where he'd been looking at the rug, search her face.

she turns back to john and he's nodding, that slow smile lighting up his face. “yeah, i do.”

she tugs him back down for a lingering kiss that she feels all the way to her toes; they're both breathing a little harder when she sways back. john’s gaze drops down and then back up not quite quickly enough, in what she recognizes as the _trying not to perv on my friend's girlfriend_ reflex, and eliza wants to laugh. instead she reaches back to pull off her shirt, says, “it's okay. you can look, john.” she can almost feel it when he does, like her skin is warm where his eyes fall on her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, her hips. “or, you know, touch.” she's feeling bold, unbuttons her jeans and kicks them off and away. alex sucks in a quiet breath somewhere below her as john kisses her again, doesn't push so much as suggest with hands on her hips that she back up to sit on the bed.

“you're gorgeous,” john breathes, and that's what makes her blush even as he's kneeling, too, runs his palms lightly up her thighs. she leans back on her elbows and lifts her hips, a wordless encouragement, and john’s smiling again as he pulls her panties down her legs and off. “message received,” he murmurs.

the single wet, open-mouthed kiss he drops on the inside of her thigh makes her _moan,_ sudden and startling; the first touch of his mouth to her folds is almost overwhelming. he takes some interminable amount of time to experiment, licks and sucks and noses at her to find what she likes, and then he's drawing back to look at alex as if he's just remembered he's there. “hands,” john says to him, “behind your back. don't touch yourself.” alex looks like he's going to complain, make some smartass remark, but john only cocks an eyebrow and he concedes. john bends his head to eliza once more, and the gentle, questing touch of his tongue to her clit is so perfect she nearly writhes. the contrast, the way he yields to her and pushes at alex, is surprising, both altogether different from the easygoing john she's known til now.

slowly, john’s getting a little more insistent, his tongue building this constant, steady pressure against her clit; he slips two fingers inside her, gently. it's hot and slick and perfect; she's gasping, almost chanting his name as he tips her over the edge, “john, god, john, _john -”_ and she hears alex’s low, wrecked _fuck_ from somewhere to her left as she comes.

her leg jerks when john pulls out of her; she's so sensitive it almost hurts. she takes a few deep breaths while her heart rate returns to something approaching normal and watches, rapt, as john brings his wet, shining fingers to alex’s parted lips. alex takes them into his mouth without missing a beat; it's not something eliza had ever thought she'd like but fuck if it isn't absurdly hot.

john moves his hand into alex’s hair, now, pulls once at the roots. alex _whines,_ his eyes falling shut. john tugs again, tilts alex’s head to kiss him, quick and dirty, his other hand drifting downward. alex’s breathing hitches, goes ragged when john’s fingers wrap around his cock, too light and teasing to really give him any relief. john strokes him slow, loosely; alex looks for a moment as though he doesn't know which he wants to lean into, the hand on his cock or in his hair. then his hips rock forward, just a little, seemingly making the decision for him. “fuck, _please,”_ he whispers, “don't stop, don't -”

“ _don't_ tell me what to do,” john interrupts, voice low and dangerous. “you'll take what i give you.” it's pure posturing, eliza knows, and it has the desired effect; alex tries and fails to suppress a full-body shudder.

john stands and shucks off his own clothing, shirt and jeans, socks and boxers. he sits on the edge of the bed next to eliza and motions alex forward, who shuffles a little on his knees until he's between john’s spread legs. he looks up at them both, pupils blown, hands still clasped obediently behind his back. john doesn't even say anything, just gives him this loaded look and strokes his hair, and then alex rises up a little on his knees to take john’s cock into his mouth.

eliza looks away from the slick drag of his lips for a moment, john’s hand clenching in his hair, just to take stock: she's the only one in the room still wearing a scrap of clothing; it feels a little silly to be in just her bra, so she takes it off, tosses it in the general direction of her other clothes, unnoticed by either of them. she's pleased to note that john has freckles everywhere, not just his face; they pepper his neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs. he's a little taller, a little more well-muscled than alex is, not bulky by any means, just lean and long-limbed. alex looks like there's absolutely nowhere else he'd rather be: his eyes are heavy-lidded, mouth red and stretched around john's cock; there's a faint tremor in his arms, like he's having to work to keep still. she mirrors alex’s position, gets up on her knees to press kisses to john’s neck, rest her chin on his shoulder and watch. john’s not wasting any time, fucking into alex’s mouth in earnest now, but almost gently, with short little rolls of his hips, and his hand in alex’s hair is more petting than holding; there's no way alex couldn't pull off if he wanted to. not that he appears to want to - his cheeks are pink with exertion and his hair is falling into his eyes but he's chasing john’s orgasm like it's his own, hollows his cheeks and sucks, draws back a little to tongue at the head of john’s cock. john reaches for her with his other hand, skims his fingers up and down her side like he's trying to calm himself down. it's not much use; they're both telling alex how good he is, how pretty he looks, when john’s whole body seizes up and he comes down alex’s throat.

“ _god,_ ” john mutters,  sounding absolutely ruined and looking dazed. alex’s chin and jaw and swollen lips are shining with saliva and john’s come; he lets go of his own wrist to swipe an arm across his mouth, rolls both shoulders until they crack. “come up here.”

alex is shaking when he stands, wincing a little at the stiffness in his knees. eliza moves out of his way and motions for him to get on the bed, back up toward the pillows. “what do you want, alex?” she asks him, skims her nails down his torso, takes his cock in her hand and strokes lightly.

his throat works; his voice is rough and wrecked when he speaks. “i want - i just wanna come, i don't care. however you'll have me, both of you, whatever you want. please.”

“no,” john muses. “do better.” he reaches over and rakes his nails down alex’s thigh, that bright edge of pain eliza’s never felt comfortable giving him. alex flinches a little, but the blissed-out smile he slants in her direction is reassuring, like he's read her mind.

alex closes his eyes, tries to push forward into eliza’s hand, makes a frustrated noise when her grip stays light and teasing. “shit - your fingers, john, please.”

“there we go,” eliza murmurs, “good boy.” she's surprised herself; she's never called him that before, but he likes it, if his groan is any indication.

“lube?” john asks.

“bottom drawer,” she says, tips her chin toward her bedside table. she kisses alex again while john digs for it, can taste john in his mouth. it's hot; she feels hot, flushed and wanting.

“hands and knees,” john says to alex, fidgeting with the bottle while he complies, flicks the cap open and shut and open again. john pours lube onto his fingers, rubs it between his hands for a minute to warm it up. alex, on all fours facing the foot of the bed, drops onto his elbows and waits; he lets out an almost pained noise when john palms his ass, then slowly works one finger into him.

eliza can only really see his profile with his cheek pressed to the mattress, his hair a mess. she figures the brief flash of discomfort across his face is normal, but she checks in anyway, rubs a soothing hand up his spine. “where are you, babe? colour?”

“green, i’m green.” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, already trying to move back toward john’s hand, wanting more, needy.

john curls his wrist, inside him to the knuckle. “alex,” eliza says, breathless, “you've got to show me how to do this, sometime.”

“whatever you want,” he gasps. “john, _please,_ don't tease me, fuck.”

“another?” john asks but doesn't wait for an answer, slides a second finger into him, and alex lets out a sound like a dry sob, panting, his jaw slack against the sheets. “god, look at you, you're fucking gagging for it, aren't you? you're a mess…” he sounds almost proud. eliza couldn't stop watching if she tried as he starts to fuck alex for real, slow, hard strokes, and alex all but falls apart. he's trying to push back on john’s hand, thighs shaking with the effort, one fist clenched in his own hair, a string of curses and pleas falling from his mouth.

“john, _john,_ fuck, i’m so close, please, please, don't stop -” eliza’s about to ask if he thinks he could come from this, when john works the tip of a third finger into him and he does come, reeling through his climax without a single touch to his cock; a long, broken moan rips from his chest.

john pulls out of him as gently as he can, wipes his hand on the edge of the bedsheet, grins when alex flops down fully onto the mattress and sprawls out.

“jesus,” alex mutters, breathless, laughing, “you are. that's. _well._ ”

john laughs, too, pushes his curls out of his face and tugs on alex’s ankle. “come here.”

“can't move,” alex protests, but after a moment he does. eliza yelps when he turns and crawls over her, drops down on her other side so she's nestled between him and john, pressed up against both of them from shoulders to ankles.

she tilts her chin up to kiss him soundly, squirms a little at the ticklish feeling of his hair on her neck. on her other side, john trails a hand over her skin, aimless, makes a surprised little sound at encountering slickness on the inside of her thigh. “you're not still -?”

eliza can feel herself blushing, a slow, diffuse warmth. john and alex exchange a look over her head, and then john is nudging her thighs apart, dips two fingers toward her entrance again. he slips into her and she sighs - and then alex shifts against her and, _god,_ he's reaching down, too, brushes against her clit. “fuck,” she says, with feeling.

they laugh in tandem, low. their rhythms aren't quite matching up but it almost doesn't matter; she's pushing up into their leisurely, easy touches anyway. she wants to watch their hands on her, tries to, but then john is tipping her face toward him to kiss her and she lets him, hums a little at the touch of his tongue to her lip. alex is moving again, and then his mouth is on her breast, lips brushing her nipple. she gasps into john’s kiss, back arching off the bed.

she thinks, a little deliriously, that she could stay like this forever, halfway toward orgasm with alex’s mouth trailing wet across her skin and john whispering filth into her ear, warm and solid and worshiped between two strong hands.

she's so wet she's dripping, can hear the slick, obscene sounds of their hands but she can't care enough to be embarrassed. it feels like john’s fingers are impossibly deep inside her, somehow, at once too much and not enough; alex picks up his pace, curls his fingers a little and she's _right there._ john’s breath is hot on her neck and he's going, “fuck, that's it, come on, we're here, we're right here,” and then alex’s tongue swipes over her nipple and that's it, she's over the edge, a hand clutching at each of them. she doesn't know how many times she comes; it's more than twice but it's all a blur. her entire body is shuddering, drawn taut, sheets damp with sweat underneath her and it's so sweet, so blindingly, shockingly _good._

she has to grab at both of their wrists before they slow and stop. she's soaked, oversensitized and twitching, heart hammering in her chest. “oh,” is all she can manage for a long moment.

she gets her limbs to cooperate long enough to roll onto her side, into alex’s chest, pulls john’s arm over both of them. she can hear alex smiling when he says, “okay, i’m making an executive decision. pizza, lots of pizza.”

“i’m not getting up to pay for it. good luck getting me out of this bed,” john mutters into eliza’s hair. then he seems to realize the implication of what he's said and tries to backtrack. “uh, well -”

“shut up,” alex and eliza say together, lazily, then both touch fingers to their noses.

“goddamn it,” john complains when he realizes. “fine, just for that we're getting olives, you _assholes._ ”

alex pulls the pillow out from underneath his head and hits him with it. eliza barely manages to duck out of the way, yelling, “ _you are grown-ass men,_ ” before john retaliates.


End file.
